Lies

Crescentia arrived at the section where the coffins were placed, open for anyone who wished to pay their final respects.

Flowers lay carefully arranged beside them—tokens of love and grief from those who had already come and gone.

With trembling hands, Crescentia placed her own bouquet among them before stepping closer.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her father was dressed in a sharp black suit, his expression peaceful, as if merely asleep. Her mother's dark hair had been curled into soft waves, her neck and hands adorned with delicate jewelry. The silky white dress she wore made her look like a sleeping beauty.

A fragile illusion of life.

Crescentia had thought she'd come to terms with their deaths. She had convinced herself she could face this moment with strength. But standing here now, looking at them… the walls she had so carefully built around her grief shattered.

Silent tears slid down her cheeks.

She said nothing. She only let herself drown in the warmth of memories—the laughter, the love, the life she once had.

A life stolen from her.

Before she knew it, the tears turned into quiet sobs, her shoulders shaking, her pain laid bare for all to see.

She felt the weight of their pity. Their whispers. Their gazes crawling over her like ghosts.

And then—

"Do you need a shoulder to cry on?"

The deep voice made her flinch, her heart leaping to her throat.

She turned abruptly, blinking away the blur of her tears.

Damian Lorenzo.

Her breath hitched. 'What is he doing here?'

As if reading her mind, Damian's dark eyes met hers, void of emotion. "I was invited. By Magnus."

Crescentia stiffened.

"But… the Lorenzo and Belmore families aren't even acquainted…" she murmured, still reeling from the unexpected sight of him.

"Your father and my father had a rivalry," Damian corrected, his voice smooth but indifferent. "My father hates every member of your family, but his grudges aren't mine. Besides, Magnus invited me, not my father. I assume he has something important to discuss."

Crescentia frowned.

Why would Magnus invite the son of the man who had been at odds with her father?

What was he planning?

What was Damian planning?

Because Crescentia didn't believe for a second that he was telling the full truth.

And she was right.

Damian didn't give a damn about Magnus or his invitation. If it weren't for Crescentia, he wouldn't have set foot in this funeral.

Since the day he met her, there had been something—an invisible pull, something that drew him to her like gravity. It was irrational. It was unexplainable. Maybe because she was the daughter of her father's enemy and he could use her to piss off his family. 

'No that's not it,' he thought. 

He wasn't the type to fight his desires.

But he wanted to be where she was.

And so, he was.

Crescentia quickly wiped her tears away, straightening her back.

"Shouldn't you be with him, discussing whatever business he has with you?" she asked, her voice laced with venom.

Damian caught it.

She was guarded. Good.

He hadn't seen it himself, but he already knew something wasn't right.

Her parents had only just died, and yet, the next day, her photos had been posted on a hooker's app at a nightclub.

Damian had seen the ad with his own eyes.

It didn't make sense. How could the daughter of a wealthy tycoon be reduced to this overnight?

Something was wrong.

He only needed a fake girlfriend to present to his grandmother—who didn't even interact with her much because of his parents— and that night was supposed to be the last night he would see her. But here he was. 

He simply wanted her there.

And as for that damn club—he had personally ensured that the owner and app administrator deleted Crescentia's profile.

Now, seeing her sitting here, drenched in her grief, something unfamiliar pricked at his chest.

He didn't like it.

So he did what he did best. He smirked.

"Reporters were swarming outside," he said lazily. "I decided to hide in here. That's when I saw you."

Crescentia scoffed. "Aren't you a businessman? I didn't take you for someone who was camera-shy."

Damian chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

She hated that reaction.

She had been certain last night was the last time she'd ever see him. Yet here he was. Invited by her uncle. To her parents' funeral.

Why?

"Damian."

A familiar voice cut through the tension.

Crescentia didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Didn't think you'd actually show up," Magnus said, extending his hand for a handshake.

Damian merely glanced at it for a few seconds without the attempt of stretching out his hand to shake it. 

Magnus awkwardly withdrew his hand, slipping it into his pocket instead with a smile that didn't touch his eyes. His gaze flickered to Crescentia, momentarily puzzled by their proximity.

"I saw you were busy entertaining guests. I didn't want to interrupt," Damian said, his lips curling into a thin, unreadable smile.

"Please, pardon us for our ignorance." Victoria's voice slithered smoothly into the conversation, gaining Damian's attention. 

She stepped forward, red lipstick so thick it could paint a blood moon.

"We've been so occupied receiving guests and paying respects to my dear in-laws."

Crescentia clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to smack the woman in the face. 

Victoria spoke as if she actually mourned them. As if she wasn't part of the reason they were dead.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Juliette chimed in, her voice deceptively polite but edged with something Crescentia knew too well. It was jealousy. 

She had noticed it the moment she saw Crescentia and Damian talking.

"Do you know Crescentia?" Juliette's tone was light, but her eyes searched Damian's with burning curiosity.

Damian glanced down at Crescentia.

She hadn't moved. Hadn't acknowledged her relatives' presence.

Her silence was louder than words.

Then, with effortless ease, Damian met Juliette's gaze.

"Crescentia is my girlfriend," he replied without stuttering.